Last Requests
by RogueIce
Summary: Claude embarks on one final mission for the Don.


"We've got a problem."

This was the Don's verdict on the situation at hand. Specifically, the newly discovered relationship between Maria, the old man's wife, and his favorite hit man: Claude, better known by the nickname "Fido".

"I can't let this treachery go unanswered. He must pay!" This was the Don's judgment: Fido would die. There was to be no doubt of this. The only uncertainty would be how. Old Salvatore's fury was not limited to the handyman, however. Unfortunately, his accomplice in this gravest of crimes had vanished. "And find that adulterous bitch – I want her brought before me!"

Luigi Goterelli, owner of Sex Club Seven, supplier of women to the Don himself, and a trusted lieutenant in the Leone Family Mafia, was next to speak. "Hey Sal, what about that guy who dicked us over in Las Venturas? What was his name? Craig, Earl…"

"Carl. Carl Johnson." This from Joey Leone, Salvatore's son and heir apparent. He was worried about where Luigi was going with this. Carl, known more often as CJ, had worked for him in the past. He'd been efficient and, most important, profitable. This had been before he went home – before Caligula's.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's him. Y'know, we never did take care of that loose end. Maybe now we can," Luigi snarled.

"Kill us two rotten birds with one fuckin' stone!" Tony Cipriani, small-time restaurant owner, with a short temper and an even itchier trigger finger. "Thinkin' we should send this treacherous prick to take care of that fuckin' spade?"

"Yeah. I hear he's gotten quite a bit of influence in the past nine years. Got him more than a few guns. Hell, even partners with the Triads, those miserable fucks. Sounds like just the sort of challenge befitting our philandering assassin." Luigi leaned back as he went on. "We send him over there, meet up with some of our people. They give him some intel, equipment, and set him loose. I figure he makes a mess of things for a while, does some damage, before this Johnson prick wipes him out. Maybe even enough for us to consider doing some damage of our own. Maybe even finishing the job ourselves." He laughed at the thought. "Who knows? Maybe he even gets lucky, and finishes off Johnson and those Triad assholes himself. In which case, our boys make sure he never collects his fee."

"Brilliant." This from the Don himself. "And to make things interesting, we let the Triads here know about it after he touches down. Just enough to know there's someone gunnin' for them. Put 'em on alert, but not give enough they know who to look for."

The simplicity and beauty of the plan was not lost on any in the room. Luigi and Tony nodded easily at the Don's suggestion. Joey was hesitant, but he nodded too. He was uneasy with eliminating two potentially valuable assets. But he was his father's son, and knew better than to argue with his Pop when he pronounced sentence.

So far as Don Salvatore Leone was concerned, Carl Johnson and Fido were already dead men. They just didn't know it yet.

* * *

_He was running. Running as fast he had ever run before. They had done it. Now it was time to get out the door, round the corner, and hop into the waiting getaway car. They were home free._

_Bang! Bang!_

_Gunshots? What the hell was going on?_

_He rounded the corner, and there she was. Catalina. His partner. His lover. Standing there, with two pistols in his face, the body of the third accomplice lying in a pool of blood beside her._

_"Sorry babe. I'm an ambitious girl. And you…" She shot him in the throat. "You're just small time."_

_As he laid there, pain overwhelming him, the darkness creeping into his vision, there was only one thought running in his mind._

_Betrayed. He had been betrayed._

With a start, Claude awoke, drenched in sweat, the memories of his dream slowly fading. Fading, but never gone. He reached up to his throat, to the scar. To the scar that marked where he had been shot. A wound that had cost him more than just his voice.

_Betrayed._

Yes, he had been betrayed. And Catalina would pay. He had already started down his path to revenge. With the help of the mafia, he had helped blow the Cartel's drug factory in Portland. He had little doubt that word of his involvement would get back to the Cartel bosses, back to Catalina. Soon, he would be able to strike at her directly.

Revenge was the only thought that kept him going these days. Had kept him going in the prison hospital, during the trial, on the bridge, and sustained him while fighting the mafia's wars. But now they were hitting the Cartel. And that meant, eventually, hitting Catalina.

His pager went off, and he picked it up to look at the number. Salvatore. He got up, and left his hideout to receive his next assignment.

* * *

Claude pulled up the dirt drive and parked his "borrowed" Banshee sports car next to the powerful and sleek Mafia Sentinels. He got out, checked his pistol, and ascended the stairs to the living room. Like the loyal attack dog that he was, answering his master's summons.

As he entered, he could see the Don and two Mafia thugs. "It's my favorite cleaner," began the Don. "I'm proud of you my boy, you kicked the shit outta those grease balls. I've got just one last job for you before we can all celebrate." With this he handed Claude a folder. "Take this, and don't open it until you're on the plane. These men here will make sure you get on ok. It'll tell you who to meet, and give you the details on what I need you to do."

Claude merely took the folder, nodded at Salvatore, and walked out the door.

"Enjoy your time in San Andreas, my boy," called the Don to the retreating figure. As his most lethal servant disappeared from view, Salvatore muttered under his breath, "It'll be the longest trip you ever took."


End file.
